


Echoes Of The Orient

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Stellar Flash Fiction [41]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bickering, Established Relationship, Halloween Reference, Humor, Light Angst, Lunch, M/M, Meatball - Freeform, No-Nonsense McCoy, Romantic Spock, Samhain Reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22136137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: Lunchtime on the Enterprise and Spock is feeling frisky.  Regrettably, McCoy is not.  And then, just to be ornery, Spock steals one of McCoy's meatballs from his spaghetti, and McCoy objects adamantly.Kirk and Scotty are happy that they are nowhere close to the bickering pair.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Series: Stellar Flash Fiction [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/705459
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Echoes Of The Orient

“Look deeply into my eyes,” Spock enticed in a mysterious voice with echoes of the Orient in it.

“Why?” McCoy asked suspiciously. “Got something in them?”

“Oh, Leonard!” Spock sat back with a huff of disgust. Teasing from McCoy would’ve been better than genuine concern. “I am trying to be exotic for you!”

“Next time, give me more of a clue, like saying that you’re trying to be something you ain’t.”

“I suppose you would prefer the direct approach? Wrestling you to the bed and stripping your clothing off you?”

“Well, that would get my attention! Or make me think you’d been letting Halloween get to you.”

Spock sighed deeply. “Why ever do you believe that I am being influenced by a pagan holiday on Terran?”

“I thought maybe you’d been bobbing for apples, got water in your ears, and it was causing pressure on your brain.”

Spock acted insulted. “You are not very romantic today.”

“It’s a quarter after twelve in the afternoon. I am more interested in my stomach than your libido. And you better be, too, if you’re going with Jim on that away mission this afternoon. Besides, we’re sitting in the mess hall with nearly fifty people around us. It’s hardly the time or place to start running our hands over each other and engaging in deep, passionate kisses,” he said, sounding like someone who didn’t know what a deep, passionate kiss was, let alone being someone who had ever engaged in one.

Spock tried once more. He got a cryptic, yet mellow look on his darkly handsome face. “When you and I are together, it does not matter to me if we are in a crowd of five thousand.” His voice became higher and more lyrical as he described his fantasy world. “As far as I am concerned, we are alone on top of Mount Olympus, with juicy pomegranates and crusty oaten breads to eat and heady, earthen wines to drink and comely vixens in diaphanous gowns to serve us while Pan plays his magic flute as woodland nymphs dance for our pleasure.”

"Back to Halloween again, I see. What's next? An orgy, like Samheim?!" McCoy frowned with annoyance. “Your spaghetti obviously has something in it that mine doesn’t. Maybe locoweed got added to yours.”

“Why are you being so unromantic today?”

“Apparently I have to be the adult since you aren't gonna be.” McCoy considered what he was saying. “Vulcan, I think we’re in trouble.”

“I know we are,” Spock muttered as he gave a dyspeptic look at his spaghetti laden with healthy vegetables finely chopped in a spicy tomato and cheese sauce. For some reason, his whole lunch had lost its appeal to him. Spock studied McCoy’s plate, then forked a meatball.

“Hey! That’s my lunch!”

“Mine, now,” Spock informed him as he aimed the meatball for his opening mouth.

“Are you crazy?!” McCoy demanded with a frown as he jumped to his feet and snatched the fork and meatball out of Spock’s hand. McCoy’s chair flew over backwards as cutlery went flying and McCoy’s own plate clattered and threatened to tip on the floor.

Various fellow diners craned their necks to see what was going on. When they saw who it was, they went back to their own meals. Those two, they thought. Amazing something hadn’t happened between them before this.

“Why did you do that, Doctor?”

“You’re vegetarian!” McCoy bellowed with blazing eyes. That drew a few curious eyes that quickly lost interest and looked away again.  
McCoy lowered his voice. “If you eat that meatball, it’ll take you a month of sitting cross-legged on your ass on a stone-cold floor before you figure you’ve cleaned up your karma enough to breathe easy again. You’ll be wearing a hair shirt and beating your chest bloody for chewing up a part of something that used to have a face! And I refuse to watch you going through that sort of angst!”

“I challenge you to show me the picture of the animal whose muscle tissue appears in that meatball.”

“Well, it’s advertised as being beef,” McCoy muttered as he retrieved his cutlery and set his chair upright again.

“I just wanted to get your attention, Leonard. I had no intention of eating your meatball. And I highly recommend that you do not ingest it, either. Its composition is probably suspicious and could upset your system.”

“It’s all in what you get used to eating,” McCoy grumbled as he returned the meatball in question to its place on his plate. “Right now, I could probably eat roofing nails with a side order of liquid cement and get along just fine with my digestion.”

“Leonard, you surely would not--”

“Relax! Get that worried look off your face! I have no intention of eating roofing nails or liquid cement or anything else of that nature! I do have a little bit of common sense left, you know!”

“Then why do you insist on consuming that meatball?”

“Just to plague the hell outa you! And it’s working!” McCoy snorted with glee as he bit a large bite out of the meatball and began chewing with relish. “Yum! Yum! This is good!”

Spock shuddered, but returned to his own plate. McCoy was not approachable when he was in this kind of mood. Spock did not consider that he was the reason why McCoy had gotten in his present mood.

Nearby, Montgomery Scott kept his eyes on Spock and McCoy. “Aye, perhaps it is a good thing that those two were at a small table and we could not sit with them.”

“Sometimes, good luck smiles on us when we least expect it,” Kirk agreed with a happy grin.

“What was it this time? Could you tell?”

“I think I heard the word ‘meatball’ drift over here. We were probably lucky we couldn’t hear more.”

“Aye. Well, at least they are quiet now.”

“That won’t last.” Kirk grinned. “Yep!”

“What?”

Kirk’s smile deepened. “It's time to pick dessert.”

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its story lines.


End file.
